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My Grandma's House
In high school about three years ago, I lived with my grandmother. She was really sweet, but lived in the creepiest house. She and her boyfriend (they refuse to get married, my grandmother likes to think it helps keep her independence) had built the house, a two-story log cabin, about eighteen years ago in the middle of very thick woods. The second story was fine and it was where they both spent most of their time, the first story was my area. Basically, it was only accessible from the back of the house or the stories leading to the second story. You would be in the living room from either entry point. To the right was a small hall that led to the bathroom, my bedroom, a guest bedroom past my bedroom, and a huge doorless closet that my grandmother kept her really nice clothes in that was separated from the hall by a curtain. Now, I lived with my grandmother because my mother gave over guardianship and then moved out of the country. I always got really creepy feelings about the downstairs area I stayed in alone, and those feelings were quickly justified within my first few months of living there. After about a month, I started waking up every night at 4:15 am. On one such night, someone was knocking on the back door. Immediately, I froze. I was not getting up when I had zero friends who knew where I lived. The door knocked again, and then I heard a woman that sounded exactly like my mother say my full first name at the door. I hadn't told anybody my real name (I went by a nickname) at school. Then the knocking stopped. I was too scared to get out of bed, so I went back to sleep once my heart calmed down. As time went on, things got freakier. I learned how to drive and would see things on the long gravel driveway when coming back home. At three separate points while living there, I got a dog and each dog would not go down the hall, into either bedroom, or even think about going near the giant closet. Each time the dog would disappear in a matter of weeks. About six months into my three year stay at my grandmother's, I started to feel like something was watching me in my bedroom. Sometimes the area next to me on the bed would feel as if someone was lying there. I was forced to sleep on my side facing the closet, which felt unbelievably wrong. The catalyst that pushed me from that room was when I was on the phone with a friend, and she asked me where I was and why someone was screaming. I immediately vacated the bedroom and slept on the couch after that. Over time I got used to a few things, like while sleeping on the couch something would play with my hair, making some pieces stand up straight and I have some seriously long hair. The T.V. would turn itself on and off multiple times through out the night and sometimes there were weird drumming sounds from the woods directly past the area where I would park. Then, the one thing that still puts me on edge when I think about it, happened. I was laying on the couch, watching T.V (it never turned off when you were watching it) and it was as if time froze. I looked at the end of the couch and I saw the head of a black dog, the rest of his body hidden by the couch. He had yellow glowing eyes and some sort of gold markings on his face. He stared at me with one side of his face and then was gone. I don't think I slept for the rest of the night. The next day, I googled what that could have been and learned about how seeing a black dog could mean someone close to you is about to die. About a month later, my granddad, who I cared very much for, passed away. When I turned eighteen, I left that house and never looked back. Category:Places